“I didn’t think smoking was allowed in hospitals.” Akim leans through the door of the small waiting room and scans the ceiling, presumably for any signs of a smoke detector.
I tap my cigarette on the arm of the chair next to me. Ash and embers fall like dark snow into the only other chair. “Take a seat.”
“You’re chipper. I’m guessing I shouldn’t mention that we don’t usually bring the people we ‘interrogate’ to the hospital?” I glare up at him, and he holds his hands in surrender. “Don’t kill the messenger.”
“You have to deliver a message to be considered a messenger.” I wave him on with my fourth cigarette in the last hour. “So f*****g get on with it.”
“Kreshnik found Arber’s body. Not that it was hard to find, exactly.” He shrugs, biting down a proud smile. “I had the guys arrange it
